


The End of the Chase

by Foophile



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, M/M, PWP, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-05
Updated: 2008-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:49:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foophile/pseuds/Foophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lincoln has gone to his knees only for his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of the Chase

Lincoln has gone to his knees only for his brother. He’s had guns pointed at his head, cops shouting in his ear and _forcing_ him down to his knees. But he’s never _wanted_ to be there as much as he does when he’s looking up at Michael, thighs open wide enough for Lincoln’s shoulders to fit through.

It’s been years since he’s been given this much access, had the time to be this close, but it feels like they’re in Chicago again despite the heavy humidity of the L.A. night.

The warehouse Self put them in is huge and old, filled with the relics of shipping offices past. It’s falling apart over their heads and none of them have attempted the rusted steps to the upper floors. Lincoln’s retreated several times to the building next to them. It’s more stable but cold at night with the wind from the port rushing through the busted windows.

Until tonight, he’s been able to get away from the rest of the group and spend sometime alone. He can talk to LJ on the phone and make sure that Sophia knows he’s coming back someday – for LJ.

Until tonight, Michael’s been sleeping on his boat with Sara in an illusion of domesticity that no one else has had the guts to touch. He hasn’t said why he’s followed Lincoln on this night, why she’s sleeping without him, but Lincoln’s also not asking any questions.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Michael’s whispering but he isn’t moving from Lincoln’s tiny cot. His room’s in a large utility closet on the second floor, hard to find unless someone’s following him up.

Lincoln says nothing, just continues unzipping Michael’s jeans. He’s been here before and learned that talking doesn’t get him anywhere.

Michael’s already hard in his briefs. He clenches his eyes closed when Lincoln takes his cock in his hand and grips the back of his neck as Lincoln licks the swollen head, swallows him down until he can feel Michael in his throat.

His little brother keens as he comes up and off, slurping, licking every silky inch of Michael. He’s done this before too but it feels like the first time. Lincoln’s hungry for the forgotten taste, the precome running freely down his brother’s cock and the tensing of Michael’s thighs under his hands.

Lincoln shifts his weight on his knees and pulls back to get Michael’s jeans all the way off. His brother’s shivering but Lincoln doesn’t think it’s from the chill. Michael helps, toeing off his shoes and socks, kicking away the jeans and briefs into dark corners. He settles again and waits for Lincoln even though he can’t look him in the eye.

So much skin, Lincoln thinks, running his hands and eyes over his little brother’s body. So much that’s been right there, by his side for the first time since he’s left Panama, that he couldn’t touch. He does now and ignores the signs that Michael wants him to hurry up.

“Lay back,” Lincoln orders, his voice hoarse with disuse.

“What?”

Lincoln frowns, “Do it.”

Michael does reluctantly and Lincoln feels like he can focus. A tiny shove and Michael’s leg is bent at the knee, foot resting on the edge of bed and ass completely revealed.

Michael’s pleads, “Linc,” breathlessly and Lincoln thinks he may split out of his pants.

He gets back to sucking his brother’s cock, gripping it tight at the base while he runs his lips over the length. The feel of hot hardness wrapped in sensitive smooth skin on his tongue is hypnotic and Lincoln blushes when he realizes that his lips are numb from how long he’s been at this, time that sped right past him. His mouth is sloppy with saliva that’s slipped past the seal of his lips and he can taste Michael on the back of his tongue.

They’re both sweating, Michael more so, and letting small noises escape into the night. Lincoln moans around the cock in his mouth (he has no idea how long he’s been doing that) and lets out another whimper when Michael clasps his head in his hands.

“Oh God, Linc. You’re torturing me. Just,” Michael tugs Lincoln down further as his lean hips thrust up. “Just do it. Go all the way…down.”

Lincoln does the opposite, pulling off and fisting him as he goes between Michael’s thighs, down like Michael asked, to the sweet bud of his little brother’s ass. He delights to hear Michael suck in a shocked breath just as his tongue teases the puckered musky skin and tries to slip inside tight muscle. His brother comes with a strangled wail and Lincoln doesn’t stop until he can _feel_ Michael go lax.

His cock is aching when he rises to his feet but he doesn’t expect Michael to reciprocate.

Again, Lincoln’s been here before and remembers how this works, how sometimes he needs to help himself. Therefore he’s surprised when Michael pulls his t-shirt over his head and goes to work unfastening his jeans. He lets his little brother flip him over and wonders how long this time is going to last. Then he gets a grip and stops thinking just as Michael palms his cock.

“Sara,” Lincoln mumbles. It's not a question but he knows that the answer has the ability to throw what’s left of his heart to the floor. His throat is raw and Michael’s kiss, soft and fleeting seems to apologize for it… or maybe for her.

Michael’s hand is tight and perfect on his cock. His brother’s soft lips send starbursts over his skin. As usual Lincoln wants more but can’t do more than pant for it.

He watches with bated breath as Michael slips down to his knees.

END

  


_“With the catching ends the pleasure of the chase”_ \- Abraham Lincoln


End file.
